Masquerading the Marquess (8 page)

"You will need more than just those three. If we are to put the proper face on this charade, you must be outfitted in the style I am able to afford. The same argument for you moving into this house applies. Appearances count."

"I will pay you back."

His expression turned serious. "No, you absolutely will not. I can’t explain my reasons to you, but if you refuse the gowns it will be one of the greatest blows to my honor anyone could make."

"I don’t understand."

"I know, but please trust me."

Calliope nodded for his benefit but resolved to pay him back for the fortune in garments lying in her new bedroom.

She would definitely arrive in
Newmarket
in style.

"And they’re off!"

Shouts and cries greeted the announcement as the gate went up. Prime horseflesh rounded the track. The crowd urged the riders on and the riders drove the beasts forth.

" Come
on, Devil’s Own!"

" Get
in there, Cypress Tale! "

"Knock it loose,
Credinburgh’s
Bane!"

The stands were full of people actively engaged in betting and cheering, seeing and being seen. It was a gorgeous spring day with a crisp breeze and no clouds in the sky. The day reflected the crowd’s mood.

Calliope lapped up the excitement. She wished Deirdre had been able to join them, but rehearsals were in full swing for the new show set to open next month, and the weekend trip to
Newmarket
had been out of the question. Robert was in the crowd somewhere, but was keeping his distance in public.

"Let’s look at the horses in the next race," Stephen suggested.

Calliope put her hand on his arm and they joined the crowd of onlookers. The horses fascinated her. She had never learned to ride, and the powerful beasts were captivating on the track.

They didn’t look nearly so primal when they were being danced in the park with delicate ladies perched side-saddle.

A gorgeous, spirited black stallion caught her attention.

"I like number five."

Stephen smiled and rolled up the sheet of statistics.
"Excellent choice.
I believe I will also choose five."

Stephen escorted her back to their seats and left to place their bets. He usually read all of the statistics aloud. Odd he hadn’t this time.

"Esmerelda, a pleasure to see you."

Calliope turned in her seat and smiled at Marcus Stewart, who always managed to appear somewhat of a fallen angel with his dark hair and golden eyes. "Good afternoon, Lord Roth. I haven’t seen you since the Campton party last week. Are you enjoying the afternoon at the Heath?"

Marcus unrepentantly sank into Stephen’s chair. "I am. And how have you fared? Are you winning or will Chalmers be required to pawn his new townhouse?"

Calliope grinned. "I am up twenty pounds."

"Good to hear. Where is the boy, anyway?"

The "boy" was only a few years younger than Marcus.

"He is placing our bets."

"Ah, yes, the feature race of the afternoon.
Should be a good one.
Which horse did you choose?"

"Number five."

Marcus cocked a brow. “Thor? Speaking of which, I haven’t seen that boy either. Where is he?"

Calliope didn’t hide her confusion as Marcus scrutinized the other spectators.
"Would have thought he’d be here to watch Thor."
Marcus snorted. "The names he gives his animals. If I didn’t know better I’d say he had vanity problems."

"Who?"

"Roth, get out of my chair."

Stephen nudged Marcus with his foot. Marcus winked at her, ignoring her question. "Chalmers never did like competition from the older folk."

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Yes, Grandfather.
Now out of my chair."

Marcus took his time unfolding his long legs and standing up. "Ah, there’s the other youngling. Think I’ll go put a bee in his bonnet, too. "

Calliope followed his gaze. Angelford and Stella were strolling through the crowd. Stella was beautiful in a pale yellow day dress. Calliope would have bet all her winnings it was the garment Angelford had ordered from Madame Giselle.

Marcus moved toward them, and Stephen sat down.

"All set. I put all our winnings on number five. "

"All our winnings on one horse?
All on Thor?"

Stephen looked surprised. "I thought you didn’t know the horse."

.

"I didn’t, but Marcus volunteered the name.
Said something about the owner and his vanity."

Stephen laughed and hit his knee with one hand. "I wouldn’t put it past Roth to say it to his face either."

"Who?"

"The race is beginning
! "

Calliope focused on the gate. The gun sounded, the gate opened and eight magnificent beasts surged forth. The riders leaned forward, their bodies moving in unison with the animals. The pack was tight down the stretch, but as they rounded the corner, three horses pulled away. Thor was third. The animals tore around the track, bodies lunging, chests heaving. The crowd mimicked them and an excited man bumped into her, his breath coming out in puffs. "Hang in there, Champion."

Her blood pounded. Thor was moving into second.
Come on, Thor
. Half a track remained. The rider leaned into the movement and Thor burst around the last turn, hammering toward the finish.

"Stay up there, Champion," the man was muttering.

Thor and Champion were neck and neck. Stephen was smiling. The people in the front row were jumping. Thor broke away and soared through the finish. Calliope felt like jumping too.

A man swore. A lady fainted. The crowd cheered.

"We won! We won! " .

Calliope hugged Stephen. He looked smug.
"Knew we would.
Always bet on James’s horse in an event race. You stay here, I’ll go pick up the winnings."

He scurried off. Calliope sighed. Was it hypocritical of her to have cheered for Angelford’s horse?

Calliope followed Stephen with her eyes and saw him join Roth and Angelford. Stella was nowhere to be seen.

People were vacating the stands and Calliope resumed her inspection of the crowd. Even learning Thor was Angelford’s horse hadn’t dimmed her elation. This setting would make a nice backdrop for a number of drawings. She wished she had her sketchpad. She noticed a scurvy-looking man staring at her, but as soon as she made eye contact he moved to the side and melted into the crowd.
Strange.

"Here are your winnings." Stephen handed her thirty pounds.

"Thirty pounds?
I thought you wagered it all."

"I did. But the odds aren’t the best when betting on one
of
 
James’s
horses."

Calliope pocketed the money with a small measure of triumph. She had begun with two pounds, her limit on the day’s gambling. As soon as she had doubled her money she had pocketed the original two pounds and gambled her winnings. It had been hard enough to wager the original two.

"I invited some of the others to dine."

"I hope you invited Roth. I don’t believe he brought anyone with him."

Stephen nodded. "Roth has been spending most of his time alone, which is unusual. The man used to be quite social."

Calliope took Stephen’s arm and they made their way out of the stands. "I also invited James and Stella. The Pettigrews were standing close, so I was forced to extend an invitation to them as well. They accepted."

The earl had established a marked interest in Esmerelda. She had learned the Pettigrews enjoyed varied entertainments, often with other couples. They were yet another sterling example of the ton, the moral center of all Christendom. Pettigrew frequently hinted for her to attend one of their parties. Someday, when she ran out of cartoon ideas, she would accept.

Stephen would probably have a conniption. He was becoming as protective as Robert. He only left her alone in the company of Roth and Angelford.

Stephen knew of her caricatures of Angelford. Yet, he seemed pleased when she and Angelford were together. When confronted, Stephen had merely grinned and said he liked to "watch the sparks fly." Stephen could be irritating sometimes. She could never rely on him not to leave her stranded with the beast.

Stephen stranded her at dinner.

They had been the last ones to enter the dining room and she had been forced to take the last available seat.
The one opposite Angelford.

The mood at the rest of the table was light. Everyone had done well at the races. The Pettigrew threesome chattered. Roth appeared entertained by their conversation. Stella and Stephen were embroiled in a lively discussion.

Only she and the man across from her were silent. Angelford sipped his scotch and observed the rest of the table.
And her.

He leaned back in his chair, and she felt his boot touch the top of her slipper. He had stretched his legs out, forcing hers to remain tucked under the chair. She leaned back and lashed out, kicking him in the shin. His eyes glittered.

Calliope widened her eyes and made a show of looking under the table.
"Oh, how clumsy of me."

Stephen glanced at her. She smiled, and he resumed his conversation with Stella.

Her toes hurt.

"Tell me, Esmerelda, what do you do in your spare time? Do you have any hobbies?"

It was the first thing Angelford had said to her all day.

"I enjoy reading
. "

She stabbed a piece of the tender beef on her plate and popped it in her mouth. Stephen had already finished his meal, but she had been pushing hers around her plate.

"What do you like to read?"

"Shakespeare."

"
Macbeth
?"

"
Twelfth Night
."

"Interesting."

She forced another piece of beef into her mouth, hoping he would stop talking. The juicy meat had lost its flavor and tasted like leather.

"And do you enjoy music?"

She chewed slowly and sipped her water. "Mozart. Rossini, Beethoven." She was being rude and didn’t care.

"James, I was telling Esmerelda the other day about
Milan
and La Scala. Do you remember that night?"

The mocking dropped from Angelford’s face and he smiled at Stephen, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
A genuine smile from the Marquess of Angelford.
Calliope was suddenly glad he had never loosed one on her.

"I do, but I’m surprised you remember." Angelford looked at Stella. "Stephen imbibed a bit too much wine. Thought a contessa was a tavern wench. Nearly got his ears boxed."